Reader's Edyn: Blitz: The Six-Month Lease by Melanie Munton + GIVEAWAY

**The Six-Month Lease by Melanie Munton**

Good Morning, Everyone! So thrilled to see you all today! I am crazy excited to welcome back Melanie Munton! I have featured Ms. Munton several times on the blog and really enjoy finding out about her books. She has a great sense of humor that translates to the perfect amount of snark within her books. Not to mention her beyond sexy interludes. She became a favorite after my first read with her, which happened to be the book preceding this one. While it is not listed as a series, THE DIVORCE ATTORNEY began my Munton Obsession. Today we get to learn more about the next book which was a very small part of the preceding storyline. Yay! Please allow me to re-introduce to the blog Melanie Munton and her latest release, THE SIX-MONTH LEASE … Plus, a GIVEAWAY!

**MELANIE MUNTON**

**BIO**

Traveler. Reader. Beach-goer. St. Louis Cardinals fan. Pasta-obsessed. North Carolina resident. Sarcastic. Bit of a nerd.
Author of the Cruz Brothers, Possession and Politics, and Timid Souls series, Melanie loves all things romance, comedies and suspense in particular because it’s boring to only stick to one sub-genre! From light-hearted comedies to sexy thrillers, she likes to mix it up, but loves her some strong alpha males and sassy heroines.
Go visit Melanie’s website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!

To find out more about Ms. Munton, please visit:

**THE SIX-MONTH LEASE**

Publication date: August 18^th, 2020

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Comedy

**BLURB**

Never have I ever…moved in with a guy after dating him for only three weeks.

Just kidding. That’s exactly what I did.

And like most of you are probably thinking, it inevitably blew up in my face when we broke up two days after signing our lease.

Now, I’m stuck living with my ex. The same man who turned my life completely upside down in record time.

For. Six. Whole. Months.

It doesn’t matter how many times he flashes those abs at me after a shower, or how close his bedroom is to mine. I will resist him because he’s simply not the right guy for me.

But if I thought he’d done a number on me before, that’s nothing compared to what happens after I finally learn the secret he’s been keeping from me this entire time.

**EXCERPT**

We touch down on the helipad near Patriot’s Point where we left from. The slab of concrete is on the edge of the now mostly empty parking lot, the park having closed over an hour ago. The sun has lowered in the sky, painting it a pink hue with notes of orange and gold.

West does some more talking into his radio headset while going through the process of shutting the aircraft down, flipping switches and pushing buttons. After I’ve had time to take stock of everything, I realize that I’m coming down from a small adrenaline rush. My chest is heaving, my heart still racing.

Now I really get West’s love for flying. It gives you a high like no other.

Helicopter heroin.

The blades slowly stop rotating until the whooping sound of their spinning eventually ceases. West removes his headphones and unstraps himself. Then he leans over and repeats the same process with me.

But once he has my straps unbuckled, he falls back into his own seat.

Slowly removes his aviators—

And spreads his legs.

It’s only then that I notice the tent between his legs.

“Does that happen every time you fly?” I ask, my gaze lasered in on his lap. “Or is that special for me?”

“It’s always for you,” he answers roughly. “That’s the fucking problem. Nothing does it for me anymore but you. The other night when you went out for drinks with the girls, my hand could barely get the job done, even though it was your naked body I pictured in my head the entire time. It’s like nothing will satisfy except the real you.”

I tsk my tongue. “Poor baby. What do you recommend for the pain?”

He unbuckles his belt, lowers his zipper. “I just gave you a ride.” He reaches inside his briefs, palming his erection. “Now, it’s your turn to give me a nice…long…ride.”

I lick my lips unconsciously, feeling my nipples pucker underneath my breezy, linen dress. “These windows aren’t exactly tinted.”

“No one’s around,” he growls, his face reddening with burning lust. “Plus, the cockpit is facing those trees. No one can see us at this angle.”

My pulse jumps at the word cock.

Wriggling his hips, he shoves his shorts and briefs down past his manhood, freeing his rod until it’s rising straight up in the air. When he wraps his fist around the base, I flashback to how he looked handling the control stick. Gripping it so tight, his fingers absently stroking it when he was letting the aircraft coast.

My God, I never thought helicopters could be so sexual.

I’ll never be able to look at any kind of control stick the same way again.

His eyes lower to my chest. “Come sit on your throne, princess.”

“I’d so love to continue this battle of wits, but some of us have things to do today that require a shower first.”

His eyes lower to my cleavage, mouth parting. I steadfastly refuse to allow that action to affect me in any way. Then he brashly lets his gaze travel over the rest of me like we’re still dating and he has the right to do such a thing.

I hate how many tingles I still get when he does that.

For God’s sake, have some self-respect.

“Need any help with that?” he rasps, his eyes locked on the swell of my breasts.

Images of our naked bodies crushed together in the shower assault me. Him kneeling before me. My head bobbing between his legs. Water sluicing over his ripped abdominals. His roars of pleasure echoing off the tiled walls as he comes. Unfortunately, those images aren’t fantasies. They’re memories. Which are so much harder to dismiss.

Maddeningly, my mouth goes dry, but I still manage to push words out. “I think the days of you helping me with anything in the shower are ancient history.”

His eyes shoot up to mine. “Careful, princess. You just broke your own rule.”

My pulse spikes.

We have another heady standoff where the residual lust that still simmers between us but is never addressed crackles in the air like fire embers. I know I need to say something—anything—to get him out of my room before we foolishly reacquaint our tangled bodies with a bed, but I’m coming up with a big, fat zero.

This, right here, is why I’m being so damn strict about the rules.

Because I honestly don’t think I’m strong enough to resist the temptation that is West.

Despite how we broke up—how furious he made me when we fought that night, when he said things that still linger at the forefront of my memory—I still want this man. Like, bad want him. Which has nothing to do with feelings or emotions. It’s all due to our forced proximity and the flames of our former physical connection that have yet to be completely doused.

After all, it’s not like his looks have changed in the three weeks since we broke up, as much as I prayed for a miracle that they would. I can’t make my body flip a switch and not find him objectively attractive just like that. The arousal that attraction inflicts is a pain in the ass, but it’s manageable as long as I don’t dwell on it.

Or stare at him too long.

And maybe I have a bit of a devious streak in me because I’ve kind of been shoving my body in his face at every opportunity. Not that I should give a crap what he thinks about my appearance since we’re no longer together, but there’s still my pride to consider. Which is what I was protecting when I quickly checked myself over in the full-length mirror just before he marched down the hallway and blew into my room.

It was pride that had me checking that my hair was still falling in its neat waves, that my makeup hadn’t faded, and that my boobs were supported nicely in my sports bra and peeking out the top of my workout tank. I may have also glanced back over my shoulder to see how my ass looked in these spandex pants. But again, that was pride.

It had nothing to do with reminding him of what he’s missing out on.

Okay, maybe a teensy bit.

“You going to camp out in here all day?” I ask, hands on my hips. “If so, you could have at least brought marshmallows with you.”

Tension broken, he snorts in laughter and walks backwards through the open doorway. “Holler if you need help with any of those hard to reach places.”

Then he’s gone.

And I’m left reeling.

You stupid, stupid fool! You know rule number six is the most important one of all.

Rule number six: there will absolutely, unequivocally be no mention of our past relationship.

I made that one easy to remember.

Six is one letter away from sex.

Which is the one thing I will definitely not be getting any of for the next five and a half months.

At least, not with West Devereaux.